xistentia | 2 truths and a lie; daemon: moonshined (cw-word)

[there's something wrong with my eyes, kavinsky wants to say. but he doesn't. partly because he doesn't trust his voice, which he thinks, will sound scratchy and weak and stupid. and partly because nico's doing an okay job with whatever the fuck this is. kavinsky accepts the shirt that's given to him. he always liked the way that the death god smells, anyway. it's not too deathy. no rot or any shit like that.

he rubs his face with it. and then, ever the paragon of super maturity and gratitude and wholesome friendship, he pinches it shut around his nose and blows, hard as he can. juicing half a lungful of snot out of his gullet and into the borrowed garment.

mucus isn't his preferred brand of gross, but he'll settle for whatever small stupid power play he can get. nico understands. (it's actually alarmingly clear, how well nico actually understands.)] What I can't tell right now, [he says,] if this shit right here is some consolation prize-- hey I'm only second best, take two, but I'm supposed to think that's okay— or if you're gonna like. [he sniffs loudly, his nose twisting in the middle of his face. turning toward the bed to sit on it.] Have beer with him and fuck him later, talk about what a piece of shit I am.

Like I'm a animal sacrifice to make your gay love stronger. They did that in oldschool Greece, right? Animal sacrifices. You get it. [the bed creaks when he sits.]

[ it's with a sigh that he follows kavinsky to the bed and sits down next to him. he doesn't make a move to retrieve his shirt ( ugh, gross, dude ), but instead throws an arm around kavinsky's shoulder. if kavinsky will let him, he'll draw the idiot closer and gently bump their heads together. ]

Frankly, I'm offended you think I'd do that. I've never been that kind of person. For one thing, I don't even like beer. And for another, my dad prefers McNuggets to mortal souls. [ a weak attempt at humor, but still. ]

You're not a piece of shit. Yeah, I was mad because Vex and I are close and I worried about him, but I've been worried about you too. You've been different since Eudio and I can't figure out why.

[ given he doesn't know kavinsky was on meds in eudio. ]

But you don't have to pull this kind of bullshit with me, got it? You don't have to pull it with anyone. I mean, Styx, people here care about you. You're not some consolation prize for anyone.

Edited (typoooos) 2017-08-28 03:22 (UTC)

[kavinsky is as stiff as a board in the half-circle of the other boy's arm. porcupine prickly. but he doesn't shove the boy off, or flail about, cuss anymore. for a moment, movement and noise desert him. it's a rather strange moment; uncharacteristic for him. makes him easier for nico to be with, maybe. in that moment, he's more like the ordinary dead than the aggravating little bastard that nico befriended once upon cuddletown.]

Well, the world fucking ended. That fucking sucked.

[it's a pretty level answer, as reasons go. it's also not the entire truth, but kavinsky doesn't know himself all that well.] This place fucking sucks. Pandemonium's gone. Raf doesn't have his bar. The air smells too Goddamn clean and Eudio already hurt my lungs with its peace, love, and friendship gas. [he twists nico's shirt in his tattooed hands, restless and aimless.] You worry about Vex's candyass more than you worry about me. Them's the fucking facts. Don't piss around about it, man. Vex is easy to like. I'm not gonna sit here and pretend he ain't.

Yeah, it did. There were people there that we loved.

[ he doesn't move away as kavinsky stiffens. he has the feeling this is something that kavinsky needs right now, that it's something the boy might even crave even if he might pretend otherwise. nico knows that it's something he does when he's hurting. but for too long, he'd pushed away any kind of contact, refusing to allow others in. he'd been like a shadow, dark and cold, but kavinsky is like knives, sharp and dangerous. still, nico knows how to navigate something like this. has done it before.

he lets kavinsky have his say and then shifts again. this time, he kneels on the floor in front of kavinsky and takes the shirt out of those tattooed hands. it's tossed aside so he can take kavinsky's hands in his ( this is what will would do; this is what will does for him even now ) and leans in close. he can smell the liquor on kavinsky's mouth like this, but pays it no heed. ]

Do you honestly think I'd be here if I wasn't worried about you. If you were so right, I'd be over fucking Vex right now. But no, I'm here with you. Doesn't that mean something?

[kavinsky doesn't move his head as the death god moves around onto the floor, but he does watch, following him with eyes that turn blankly in their sockets. he manages to keep his face empty as the other boy pulls the shirt away, as the other boy talks. to anyone who knows what nico is truly capable of, this image isn't too convincing; raiser of zombies, power over death itself. nico is no supplicant, not at anybody's feet.

but kavinsky has a bit of an ego problem, so it works a bit. more than a little. he looks down on nico, and maybe something about the physicality of that stops him from looking down at nico so much, defensive and prickly, full of pain, willing to transmute it into simple jealousy because that would be easier than sitting with the empty chill of not being loved enough.

he stares at nico for what feels like a long time.]

Something, [he allows, finally. two years of therapy produces results, as does nico's peucliar finesse in dealing with extraordinarily difficult young men.] You want me to pretend it's enough?

[ it's not often nico gets on his knees for anyone, at least not in the way kavinsky is thinking. he's the type to stride forward on the battlefield, push others out of the way and let his fear aura talk for him. he's faced down the lord of time without flinching, faced the curses of the arai, walked the flesh of tartarus itself. he may have been broken then, especially when he met the goddess of misery, but he never once bowed before them.

the reason he kneels before kavinsky now is for a different reason. maybe it's because he knows misery, has seen her face, that he knows misery in others. like now, even as kavinsky keeps his face a mask of impassiveness. he can tell kavinsky is working through this, and even if he gets a snarky remark, it'll be worth it to see that kavinsky is trying.

but he doesn't get snark, he doesn't get sass. he gets a small admission and that prompts the corners of his lips to quirk a little. he slides a hand up to cup kavinsky's cheek, well aware that this kind of touch might either set him off or be exactly what he needs. ]

I don't want you to pretend. Pretending just makes it worse. I speak from experience. It'll just continue to fester inside. Instead, tell me what you need.

Travel back in time, [is kavinsky's answer, prompt, but not as derisive as it could be.] Tell me he'll be worse than Lynch. A shittier liar than Caleb. Give me a heads up, man. I could find somebody else to fuck. [some other terrifyingly powerful, dark-haired man, no doubt. you can't say that kavinsky doesn't have a type.]

You're a demigod. You can pull that shit off, can't you?

[it's easier to talk about power. it's easier to make fun. certainly both matters of life that kavinsky has experience and skill with. sincerity and vulnerability are considerably more difficult.] I'm not gonna put out tonight, di Angelo. It's the shit when this happens. [this happens, like it's happened before. it has.] I need like half a pound of cocaine to wanna do anything. I'm always festering, sweetheart. I'm a fucking leper where it counts.

[he realizes too late that where nico's kneeling, he can tell his eyes are kind of red and jacked up. he twists his head, glancing away for a moment. stupid. but he's still not trying all that hard to get away.]

I can think of one thing, but you ain't gonna like it.

I wish I could. There's a lot of things I would change. But my powers don't work that way.

[ it's times like these that nico wishes so desperately that he could go back in time. that he could change things for himself and others. maybe if he went back, he could stop himself from falling in love with percy jackson, from falling back in love with the son of the sea. maybe he could find a way through tartarus without being caught. maybe he could even prevent bianca from dying.

and it wouldn't just be for him either. he'd do it for loki, for vex, and even for kavinsky. but he can't. all his powers generate are death and destruction. he has no power over time.

so he sighs and shakes his head, hand slipping from kavinsky's cheek. it pains him that the other boy apparently feels he needs drugs to function, but he doesn't care about fucking right now. not when kavinsky's like this. ]

You don't have to do anything you don't want to. I'm willing to help if I can.

[kavinsky's eyes cut across the death godling's face again. retreat for a moment, before returning. it's a cowardly little dance, but the rest of him doesn't move. sitting stable on the edge of his bed. thinking, then not thinking much at all. thinking of vex, then only about nico, then only about the shape of his own hands on his lap.

there's no one he wants to change death for tonight. not even-- and this is a shitty thing, but not surprising— not even mark. maybe in a month or five, but until then there's no spare room for compassion in kavinsky's heart.]

Let me cut your hair.

[it's a sudden proposal with a lopsided smile that actually reaches kavinsky's eyes. hard to read, otherwise. if it's cruelty, it's not the loud and kidnapping kind that kavinsky's thrown about in the past. an old joke from their old homeworld, long ago.]

[ for a few moments, all nico can do is stare. he'd been expecting something more deep, something a little more desperate. but this... it's such a reminder of their banter from "home" that he can't help the smile that quirks at his lips.

it's such a simple request too, for all the times they argued about it back in eudio. still, he can't help but want to give kavinsky this, so he huffs out a breath ( one that flutters his long bangs ) and jerks his head. ]

Where are your scissors?

[the mirth that darts across nico's face makes kavinsky smile in answer. just a small one. grudgingly. mostly, the concession is that he gives a fuck if nico wants to make him feel better. it does little to quiet the howling pain in his skinny chest, but it gives him something else to listen to for a little while.] Got some in the kitchen.

And this trimmer thing I use on my pubes, but I can wash it first. Boiling water and all. [a tattooed hand goes up, knocks gently into nico's cheek. at least there's no tangible stickiness of snot or anything of the like that nico can feel. kavinsky starts to scoot off the bed, moving a little slowly, but at least-- moving. and not with the frenetic crazed cokehead mess the way he was before, either. this time, with purpose.]

You gonna wash your hair in the fucking shower, or I gotta work with that mess?

[ it's the smile that clinches it for nico. the smile that makes him decide he might as well go through with this, even if he makes a face at the idea of clippers from anywhere near kavinsky's crotch being used on his head.

he's still making the face as kavinsky asks about showering. he doesn't see why he needs to, but if that'll continue to keep kavinsky out of the funk he was in, his hands go to his belt. ]

Fine, fine. [ with the air of exasperation. ] Go clean your trimmer 'cause I don't want it near me until then. I'll head to your shower.

[ and he just drops trow like no big deal. after all, kavinsky's seen everything anyway. so he gestures like "where the fuck is the shower anyway?" and waits for kavinsky to respond. ]

[kavinsky points through the doorway. the bathroom is right through, the door off to the right. it's a good-looking bathroom, shiny and chrome, but already in something of a need for cleaning. kavinsky has a rather stereotypical privileged white boy's concept of cleaning. smears of dust gathering in the edges here or there, toothpaste streaking the mirror, although it smells bright and sweet with chemical agents. he actually follows the death god into there, tossing a new towel over the top of the toilet tank.

in the meantime, kavinsky's fetching the trimmer from the drawer. turning some hot water on in the faucet, some soap for sterilization.]

You got anything in mind or you want me to use some creative freedom? [he calls. he does sound-- less sad. for better or worse.]

[ making quick work of his shower ( he doesn't really want to give kavinsky a show or anything ), he's soon done and reaching for the towel. since he left his clothes in kavinsky's room, he heads back there. he's glad that the other boy sounds less sad ( it's progress ), and apparently giving haircuts is something kavinsky enjoys, so he prepares himself inwardly to accept whatever style the other boy has in mind. ]

I don't care. Just don't make it look like crap.

[ he has a reputation as the shaggy son of hades, after all.

grabbing his clothes, he soon has himself dressed again save for his shirt. figuring he'll be losing a good amount of hair, he figures keeping his shirt off would be best considering he doesn't want hair all over it. ]

I don't really know what's considered in style, so I'll leave it up to you.

[ which means he's putting a great deal of trust in kavinsky. he hopes the dreamthief realizes that. ]

[trusting kavinsky is often a mistake. ensuring he knows it's the mistake you're making is probably a whole other mistake. but there are worse mistakes to be made with kavinsky than that, these days. at least they aren't in love.

by the time nico emerges, there's an amateur barber's station set up in the bedroom, in front of the mirror posted at the foot of his bed. chair, scrap paper. a questionable but not unexpected beer sitting by the shears and a large pair of kitchen scissors. kavinsky pulls the other boy into sitting down on the seat, his jittery, tattooed fingers tugging on nico's arm. there's some shitty bulgarian rap blasting from kavinsky's laptop nearby.]

Hey.

[he scrunches his fingers through nico's hair. with his other hand, he picks up the shears.] Hey. How come I never met your boyfriend.

[ trusting kavinsky might be a mistake, but nico feels like it might turn out well this time. he's extending something to the other boy, trying to show that it's okay to be normal, okay to feel heartbreak sometimes, but acting out on it... not so much. that's why he's here, wrapping his toewl around his neck as he sits. the amateur barber station is a bit of a surprise until he remembers kavinsky can pretty much dream this stuff up and he notes how kavinsky still seems uneasy by the way his fingers dart across his skin.

what surprises him the most, though, is when kavinsky asks about will. it gives nico pause and he wonders why they've never met. styx, he can't even think of a time when kavinsky has ever asked before, much less shown interest. he considers the question for a moment and then replies. ]

Will's usually busy doing his doctoring stuff. I can introduce you, if you want, but he'll probably scold you on your health. He's like that.

[kavinsky feels around nico's scalp. it's a pretty, round, symmetrical thing, buried deep under thick black hair. there's a cruel and ugly part of his little soul that is tempted to smash it, like he's tempted to smash anything, from dishware to birds eggs, from jewels to the fragile construct of his own awful!! life. but that cruel and ugly part of him is only so because he knows of how little consequence such an attempt would be, that hates his own helplessness, that would only prove it in the attempt.

and there's another small, struggling, but growing part of him, that just thinks: nico's hair is pretty, and the shape of his skull is nice. he feels around the edge of it, then, abruptly, puts the clippers in, with a matter-of-fact click of the button. it begins buzzing fiercely, and strands drop from nico's skull. laying starkly against the white terrycloth towel, and a sharp contrast to the floor.]

Is that why you like him? [he asks. then, to soften it with a joke-- or to harden it, depending on how you see it,] Is that why you don't want Rafa to be your mom? You're already fucking one. [he smiles lopsidedly in the mirror.]

[ kavinsky's hands feel surprisingly good on his scalp, making him wonder if maybe this side of kavinsky could show more often and how he might coax it out. he's unaware of the other boys thoughts, but if he were, he'd show kavinsky the power of a big three demigod. not that he'd want to. for all the grief kavinsky gives him from time to time, he likes the boy, wants to get along with him and not just for vex's sake. there's something about the dream thief that draws nico in and maybe it's the power over dreams that they both have.

as soon as the razor is pressed to his scalp, he flinches. if only because it's been ages since he's had a haircut ( bianca had cut his hair for him, but bianca is gone forever ) and it's a strange sensation. as the inky locks fall away to land on the floor, nico feels a strange sense of loss that counters the equally strange sense of freedom.

he looks up at the mirror, watching kavinsky as he works, and frowns minutely. why does he like will? will solace is a nerd who sometimes nags him too much, but will also has an electric touch and a head on his shoulders that often keeps nico in line. preventing him from falling into some of his more self-loathing, self-sacrificing tendencies. nico thinks of percy and how percy never did that for him. he may have been in love with percy jackson, but will solace... he's good for him. ]

My mom is dead. Rafa and I are friends, but... He seems to see me as competition. So seeing him as a mother is a bit weird.

[kavinsky notices some stuff is happening in the death god's head. it's like chum in the water for the vile shark that lives inside his soul. but he doesn't fall into the old frenzy, having been lulled by the metaphorical chin stroke or whatever that divers use to tame sharks ... okay this metaphor is going too far.

but he looks nico in the mirror, an eyebrow ticking upward an imperceptible fraction of an inch. that question wasn't actually meant to be a hard one. but then his eyes drop again and he steers the clippers a little lower, taking more coal-black locks off the base of nico's skull. he runs his finger along the other boy's scalp to make sure it's going to come out symmetrical and then hades' very own son doesn't try to kill him later.

no no he doesn't really think it'd go that way, if he were to be honest with himself. he's just not very good at honesty under the best of circumstances, and he's been eyes deep in his own miserable bullshit all week.] Competition? [oooooo. draaama. okay but not really. somehow, that doesn't surprise kavinsky entirely. he picks up a comb and starts poking around pretending he has any idea what he's doing.] Is it with Vex?

[ rolling his eyes, nico manages a sigh. kavinsky has hit the nail on the head and nico wonders just how much he knows. nico is aware how close kavinsky and rafa are ( the way kavinsky calls him "mom" is a big clue ), and though he's close to rafa too, it's in a different sort of way. maybe it's because of that linger jealousy rafa seems to have, but nico doesn't quite understand it. he may be friends with vex, best friends even, and they may fuck around from time to time, but he was never a romantic rival. he was never a romantic option for vex when nico had been so enthralled by percy jackson. ]

Rafa seems to think I'm some kind of obstacle in the way of his relationship with Vex. But Vex and I are just friends. We're close, yeah, but not romantically or anything.

Edited 2017-09-29 21:13 (UTC)

[of course kavinsky knows. he's an expert at jealousy. actually that's wrong; it is in fact a minor miracle that kavinsky knows. he's been through three or four ronan lynches at this point and still has zero fucking cluepons that his old friend was in love with adam parrish, of all people.

still, vex and rafa. that's different. they get shitty about each other. kavinsky remembers.]

They're weird about each other. During that big fucking orgy Vex and Mark threw back in Eudio, Vex got all fucked up about Rafa biting me. He got in between us. Like. Physically. Fucked Rafa inside out, practically. [kavinsky shrugs a shoulder up, still navigating the scissors carefully around the pretty-perfect symmetry of nico's skull, trimming around him neatly as you like. and his hands stay gentle and precise, even when he says:] You can't fuckin' pretend like you and Vex aren't weird about each other, man.

[ meanwhile, nico is reminded of the brand on his back, the tattoo he'd gone and gotten with vex and how it symbolizes his and will's relationship. whereas vex has a tattoo symbolizing his and mark's. those are the kinds of things they do together because they're friends. and he can't think of a single moment when vex had ever gotten jealous over him. ]

I remember that orgy... [ his lips twitch as he catches kavinsky's eyes in the mirror. a brow lifts as he recalls the way he'd been fucked by both kavinsky and vex. ]

I love him, Kavinsky, but like a brother. I've never been in love with him. I don't know, maybe it's because he was my first and everything, but really... he's in love with Mark and I've always been in love with someone else.

I don't give a shit about that, [says kavinsky, which sounds dismissive-- and it is. but the fact is, he's never been very good at maintaining platonic friendships, with or without sex. some boundary tends to get crossed. and as a result, he tends to be shitty and forgetful of his friend-friends, at least, until he loses them, or someone points them out to him, or a threat arrives.] You'd still pick him over most people, that's all.

It's cool. [it's. not actually cool? or maybe it's thirty-five percent cool. or it's only cool when kavinsky isn't the one being chosen over. it's hard to say what kavinsky means by 'it's cool,' but considering he's minding himself as he carefully cuts pieces off nico's hair, he could certainly be more self-ignorant and vindictive right now.] You guys can have your weird platonic sexual bullshit I guess.

[snip snip snip. more black locks fall away from nico's head.]

[ a sigh as his gaze follows one particularly long chunk of hair fall away. kavinsky isn't wrong that he would pick vex over some people, but that's only because nico knows he can't save everybody. he'd tried and failed when it had been percy and annabeth, clinging to a ledge above the long descent into tartarus, and he'd barely survived in his mission to save camp. he's just not cut out to be a hero like will or percy. his own selfishness and fear gets in the way.

idly, he lifts his hands to his chest where he takes up the nervous habit of twisting the large skull ring on his finger. a tick that he starts any time he's forced to discuss a difficult topic. ]

I'd rather die than have to choose, though. When people say I have to... I hate that. I don't want to be forced to choose because if I had things my way, I'd choose everyone. And if I can't have things that way, I'd rather be the one hurt instead.

[ he tugs off the ring and looks at it for a few seconds, thinking about what would happen if his hand was forced. it certainly wouldn't be pretty. ]

Are you sure it's cool?

Everyone fucking chooses, [kavinsky says.] If you didn't take Vex's side, you'd be a bigger cunt than me. If you didn't pick Will over somebody you actively fucking hate, same difference.

[despite the sharp choice of words, kavinsky's hands stay gentle and instructive in nico's head. probably more assured than anybody with his novice level of expertise has a right to, really. no jokes please. (or do have jokes, it's always good for the dream thief to have something new to agonize over.) ('good for.')] Dying's a choice too, any day you're fuckin' alive, man. If you don't want to make any choices besides that one, you could do it today.

[another coal-black lock of hair falls away. kavinsky brushes it off nico's shoulder. somehow, talking about suicide takes his mind off vex. for better or worse.]

You stick around, the fucking hard choices are gonna find you some point.

[to be fair, the choices have gotten easier for kavinsky lately. hard to say why that is. he probably just doesn't think about them as much anymore, the muzzle of his gun less appealing, whole bottles of pills less a solution, final darkness mundane. maybe it's because he'd already been there and tried that. it's not the most fun way to learn, from your mistakes, but learn you do. even kavinsky, eventually.] But you do get to choose.

2 truths and a lie; daemon: moonshined (cw-word)

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cw drugs some more

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hayley this tag was so beautiful!

not as beautiful as yours!

never

lies

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tw suicide

cw: suicidal idealation

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